


Fake

by Viking_woman



Series: Iwyn Lavellan & Solas: Fake Marriage AU [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: A few naughty words, F/M, Fake Marriage, Implied reference to sex, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 13:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15026066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viking_woman/pseuds/Viking_woman
Summary: Iwyn Lavellan has a problem. She needs to get married, right now. Solas has a suggestion.





	Fake

**Author's Note:**

> This was done for a fandom trope challenge.

Solas hears as small sound of distress, and when he enters the office kitchen, the source is obvious. Iwyn, one of his co-workers, is staring at her phone with a look of horror on her face. She collapses in a chair as he gets his coffee.

“Are you…alright?”

“No. No I am not.”

He frowns.

“There is this dumb tradition my clan has. By someone’s 25th birthday, you’re supposed to return home to you clan. It is expected you live there, you work there, and so on and so forth.”

“I take it you are close to your 25th birthday, and that you do not want to go back? You have no way of refusing?”

“You got it! I could not go, but it would upset my parents, my brother… ruin his chances of ever being Keeper… I can’t not go.”

“That sounds very harsh. I am sorry you are beholden to such pointless traditions. There are no exceptions?”

“Yes, there are exceptions. If you marry someone outside the clan it’s understood you don’t have to come back – you know their spouse might not want to. And the traditions aren’t entirely pointless, it’s just that… I’m sorry Solas, I shouldn’t have bothered you with my personal stuff. I just really love my job and my life here and I don’t want to be stuck there forever.”

She sighs and puts her head in her hands.  He sits down across from her, coffee steaming from his mug. He adds 4 packets of sugar. He wants to comfort her, somehow. Offering a hug might be inappropriate, no matter how much he wants to.

“So, you just have to find someone to marry. You could even get divorced after?”

Iwyn looks up and she gives him a wry smile.

“Sure, yes, just find someone I can introduce to my parents as my fiancée I haven’t told them about, drag down to the Wycome compound for big meet and greet and get married in a big Dalish wedding. Within the next two months. Oh, and then stick around long enough so Deshanna doesn’t figure it out and my mother doesn’t stop speaking to me.”

“I’d do it.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“You’d do what? Marry me?”

It is his chance to go back, immediately, with no harm done. However, he is upset that she is upset, and he enjoys her normally calm presence in the office. She is also interesting, and beautiful and this is quite possible worst idea he has ever had.

“Yes, I can help you out. It seems like it should all be manageable.”

“Really?” It is a quiet whisper, sneaking right across the table and into his chest.

“Really.”

 

From there on, it is a whirlwind of preparations. Iwyn convinces her family they have been dating a while, but she had not told anyone about him as he is not Dalish. They coordinate their story. They learn each other habits and preferences, sitting on the floor eating ice cream. They hold hands, they kiss. To practice of course. Her lips are soft and sweet.

 

 

Six weeks later, they are picked up at the Wycome airport by her brother, Branwen. He greets Solas firmly, ferociously. She holds Solas hand in the car, all the way to Lavellan village.

Once they are home, they barely get any rest. Everyone wants to get to know Solas. Everyone wants to know about the engagement ( _we wanted to keep it small_ ), her ring, her dress ( _it’s a secret_ ). She steals Solas away on day three, two days before their ‘wedding’. They walk along the river bank, hand in hand. Just in case, she tells herself. Not because his fingers are long and elegant, and his hand is warm and comforting against her own.

“How are you doing, Solas? I know it is… a lot. My family, the clan, everything.”

“It’s alright. Most people have been very welcoming.”

She frowns. “Most?”

“Your parents, your Keeper, a number of others. You are quite well liked, and it appears to be to my advantage.”

“So -  they think I have good taste.”

“You do, Iwyn.”

He winks. There is no reason her heart should beat faster.

“You said ‘most people’. Did anyone bother you?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Someone did bother you.”

“Your brother is very protective of you. He just wants you to be happy.”

“I see. I hope you he didn’t scare you.”

“Not at all. I am fine.”

His hand squeezes hers, and for a moment, she wishes this was real. That she wouldn’t have to divorce him, but they would be back for the holidays, next year and the year after and ten years from now, and he and Branwen would become friends and… it’s not real.

“Good. I think I will tell him the truth, he will understand. There is no reason for him to harass you.”

“That isn’t… It’s up to you of course.”

“It will be nice to tell someone, I think.”

Solas nods, and she feels like she missed something, but they continue their walk.

 

 

Later, she finds Branwen. He is in his studio apartment, working on his computer.

“Hi.”

“Hey. Did you need anything?”

“I need to talk.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“I’m serious, Brannie – Branwen.”

“Do you think I’m not listening?”

“You’re on the computer.”

“Is this about the wedding?” He sighs and turns around.

“Yes, it’s about the wedding.”

“What is it?”

“There is something you need to know. It’s not… You know I don’t want to come back and live here.”

“Now you don’t have to.”

“That is the point. Solas offered to marry me. So I wouldn’t have to.”

“I am not following.”

“I told you to listen.”

“I was listening.”

“The marriage is fake. It’s just so Deshanna doesn’t make me move back here. I wanted you to know.”

“It’s fake. It’s a fake marriage.”

“Yes. Would you just listen?”

“I am. Does he know it’s fake?”

“Of course he does. That’s the point.”

“He doesn’t look at you like it’s fake.”

“Well, maybe he is a good actor.”

“Maybe he is. Maybe he isn’t.”

“What in the void does that even mean? Just leave him alone and be nice. He is doing me a favor. And you.”

“I was nice.”

“You were not.”

“What do you mean, doing me a favor? I don’t understand.”

“What would have happened, Branwen, if I had not come home?”

“Not come home? You mean, not had your wedding here?”

“The wedding fake. If I wasn’t here, there wouldn’t be a wedding. I mean if I just had refused to go back home.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

“I wouldn’t. Because it would ruin your chances of ever being Keeper.”

“You… it matters to you?”

“Of course it does! You’re my brother. I like the Clan, everything. I just don’t… belong here. You do. You will make a great Keeper.”

“I - thank you. And I will keep that in mind, with Solas. I will still ask you to be cautious. When he talks about you... I told him that if he left you unhappy I would come find him, and his reply was no act. He cares about you.”

“I know he does. He is a friend.”

Branwen shakes his head.  “Just be careful.”

“Are you going to tell?” She bites her lip.

“Of course not.“

She reaches for him, and she hugs him tight. He hugs her back and a huge weight has lifts off her shoulder. Someone else knows and at least there is one person she doesn’t have to pretend with.

“Thank you, Brannie.”

 

That night, she stares at Solas, sitting on the other bed in their hotel room. He is deeply engrossed in his book, a cute furrow on his brow as he concentrates. He can’t possibly be interested in her? No matter how easy they seem to handle this. How easy it is to be besides him, to talk, to simply be. No matter how much she wants to go to his bed, to curl up beside him. To sleep next to him, or to distract him from his book.

This is getting out of hand.

She must have made a noise of discontentment, because Solas looks up, frown still in place.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m good, I just… I think I am going to take a shower. I didn’t mean to disturb your reading.”

He gestures towards the restroom, and chuckles.

She wants to hear that every day, and she is fucked.

The next day leaves her no time to pause and thinks.  Her mother insists to do some final fittings to her dress (‘ _it fits fine, it’s a_ _simple dress. We just wanted something low-key’_ ), her brother decides to take Solas out for darts ( _does he even like darts?_ ) with Mahanon. Her father tries to tell her about sex and birth-control (‘ _I’m twenty-five years old, dad_ ’). Deshanna calls Iwyn to her office, and waxes poetically about non-Dalish elves who has joined clans. Iwyn smiles and nods, and hopes she spares Solas the same lecture.

At the end of the day, she kisses Solas goodbye – and she pretends she doesn’t want anything more, that she doesn’t want to devour him on the spot, and at the same time she has to pretend she wants more, that it’s hard to let him go. She can’t tell where her fake feelings begin and her real feelings end.

Iwyn sleeps in her old bed that night, in her old house. She is about to be married. To a friend, someone she cares for, but it’s not real. It is nothing like her childhood dreams. She is not going to start a family. She is not going to grow old with Solas, she is not going to wake up every day next to a person she loves. She is not going to have a honey moon, she is not going to have a wedding night.  

She lets herself imagine it for a moment.  Kissing Solas, his soft lips full of need, his eyes full of love. Hearing him moan when she bites his lips. She doesn’t even know what he likes, or what he looks like naked. If he is cut or uncut, straight or curved. It’s absurd, and she wants to call the whole thing off.

 

 

“Are you ready?”

Solas looks at Tawen, Iwyn’s father. He looks proud and nervous, and Solas feels a pang of sorrow for letting him down. If only… If only he was allowed to love his daughter.

“As much as any man can be,” he manages.

He squares his shoulders. He smiles. They turn towards the people waiting, towards the entrance to the glade. The grass is green and the birds are singing. It’s too much like a movie, and he is waiting for that dramatic moment, when Branwen will jump up and declare him a liar and a fraud. _It wasn’t my idea_ , he could say. _I wish it was real_ – and he can’t think that. There will be divorce papers waiting for him in six months.

He forgets everything when Iwyn appears. Her dress is stunning, spring green lace in a simple cut. She holds white flowers in her hands and she smiles when she sees him. He thinks he manages to smile back.

The ceremony is a blur. He can’t stop looking at her, smiling like a loon. He hopes she doesn’t notice. They get married, they kiss. They plant a tree ( _a tree!_ ). There is a small party, with food and drinks. His cheeks burn when she leans in close, when she kisses him. When her hand lingers on his back, when she threads her fingers through his. He’s a fool.

Soon, they are on the dance floor, noise and people around them. Everyone is happy and drinking and smiling.

“Are you holding up alright?” Iwyn asks.

He nods.

“Are you?”

“I’m ok. I’m good. I’m… thank you. I can’t believe you are doing this for me. It means the world.”

“Anytime.”

_Fool. Fool. Fool._

She kisses his cheek, and he imagines the shy blush on her face.

 

 

Much later, after cake and dances and more drinks and more food, they are back at their hotel, just the two of them. Her whole clan had sent them off, cheering until they kissed, and cheered some more until he had bent her over and dipped her in his arms. She tasted like chocolate and champagne.

“Solas, could you please help?” Iwyn fumbles with her zipper. He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it over a chair.

“Gladly.”

He unzips her, her dress undone as he pulls the tab down below the swell of her ass. The expanse of her back opens before him, warm and golden. He can’t help it, his hands find the way to her skin, his palms flat against her back. He slides them up and he helps her shrug the dress off her shoulders. It pools at her feet. She shivers, and he realizes she is mostly naked and very close.

He rubs her shoulders and runs his hands down her arms.

“Are you cold?”

“No, I… a little?”

She leans into him, her back flush against his chest. His resolve shatters, his restraint scattered like shards on the floor. His arms fold around her, below her naked breasts. He kisses her neck, her throat, reveling in her moans, the press of her ass against his erection. He has nothing more to hide, and when she tilts her head back, his lips find her mouth.

She turns in his arms, her own reaching for him, pulling him close. Their mouths find each other’s again, and nothing has ever has never felt so right in his entire life.

Her hands sneak between them, and she starts undoing his shirt. He wants to feel her naked body next to his, and it is wrong. He stops her, his hands catching hers.

“Iwyn – what are we doing?” 

What if she doesn’t want him in the morning?

“Having sex.”

“We shouldn’t.”

“You want me. I want you.”

She punctuates by rolling her hips against his.

“That doesn’t mean we should.”

He tears himself away and turns. He rests his arms against the wall. They are too caught up in this and he is too much in love.

He exhales. Three times into the silence. Gently, she places her hand on his back.

“Solas? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have presumed.”

Her hand falls away, and her hears the rustle of clothes. He is stranded at a precipice, a slow and cautious backtracking the only safe way down.

“I’ll ask if they have another room.”

Or he could leap.

“Iwyn. Wait.”

He takes two steps and stops her with a hand on her arm.

“What do you want, Solas?”

“I want you. You are unlike any other person I have met. I love you.”

“Say that again?”

“I love you Iwyn. Please – please tell me this is still an act. Tell me you don’t love me, and then I will never speak of it again.”

“I am not acting. I - ”

He kisses her. This time he holds nothing back, her words have set him free. She consumes him with an equal passion.

She pulls back a little, and her eyes lock with his.

“ _Ar lath ma,_ Solas.”

“ _Ar lath ma_.”

When your heart has wings, it doesn’t matter how tall the cliff is.

“Can I take you to bed now, my husband?”

He grins, and he scoops her off her feet, only to deposit her on the bed next to them.

“Yes.”

 

 

It is past lunch when they emerge from their room the next day, hand in hand. Branwen winks when he picks them up in the lobby.


End file.
